Blank Canvas
by Rainstream16
Summary: Life would be a blank canvas if we were not to live it to its fullest. So we will. Together. 100 themes for Lan Fan and Ling.
1. 001 First Meeting

**A/N: So this is the beginning of my 100 theme challenge for Ling and Lan Fan. For the themes, I took a few from the Royai themes, and a few from some random themes floating around the net. But most of the I have made up on my own. **

**Seeing this is my first time trying out something like this (100 chapters o__o) I apologize if it sucks. I personally hate this one myself (but I always hate my stories, so you might not). Feel free to tell me how I could improve it. (Flames are also welcome). Greatly appreciated :]  


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**When Ling Yao had met his guard, he had been very surprised.

It was a girl. A _girl_. She was small, quiet, and slender, unlike some of the guards that he had seen his brothers and sisters walk around with. In fact, she was the complete opposite.

Her name was Lan Fan. She had come from the clan of guards that had protected the Yao family for generations. Yet she hadn't spoken a single word since she had come in with her grandfather. He hadn't even seen her face, since her screen of black hair blocked her facial features from him. And if what Fu and his mother were saying were true, he and this girl would take their lessons together, and more. She would be by his side for many years.

Lan Fan lifted her head for the first time, and Ling caught a glimpse of her face for the first time—a delicate nose, a high forehead, and dark brown eyes. She was, in fact, pretty. Fu nudged her. "Lan Fan," he said. "Don't be so shy. Greet Lady Yao and Prince Ling Yao. Come on."

She bowed politely to his mother, and then to him. "Pleased to meet you, Young Master and Mistress. My name is Lan Fan."

Her eyes made contact with Ling's own as she bowed to him. Making sure his mother wasn't watching, he offered her a cheeky grin. Her eyes widened in surprise and shock, and her cheeks turned a light pink color. Lan Fan ducked her head back again, huddling near Fu. But he was sure he had seen the barest trace of a smile on her lips.

Ling was going to like her.

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_Words: 282_

_Additional Notes: None.  
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	2. 002 Unknown Past

**A/N: Theme number two - _Unknown Past_. It came from the RoyAi one, yes.**

**I tried to make this one longer, since my last one was really short. I found this one to be okayish. And you're going to have to get used to me bashing my fics, because here's the thing: Artists and writers (I'm both) usually hate and criticize themselves a lot. It just happens. So bear with me D:**

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It had started out as a simple game.

It was Ling's favorite game out of the dozens of games he had made up. He was curious about everything: bugs, food, music, alkahestry, and more. He wanted to learn about everything.

So he had a game that he played with Lan Fan. He would ask her a question, and she would have to answer it. In return, she could ask him a question, and he would have to answer. It was completely straightforward and uncomplicated, but Ling enjoyed it.

It had been Lan Fan who had first asked about his family. "Then, Young Master...is your mother kind to you?" She didn't even look at him, for her hands were busy cleaning her kunai knives free of dirt and blood with a scrap of cotton cloth. She had asked a simple question, but she was careful not to ask any questions that would pry too much into his personal life.

"Yes." Ling answered. "I love my mother a lot. I haven't met my father because he's the emperor, but my mother has always been very nice to me. She played with me before I met you, talked to me, and more. Now that I think about it...what about your family, Lan Fan? I've only seen you and Fu. Don't you have a mother and father? Lan Fan?"

Silence. Lan Fan's hands stopped moving, and the cloth fell to the ground. She lowered her head, and her black hair dropped down to cover her face. Her mouth opened, and a small word came out. "Dead."

Ling's eyes widened. "Dea…Lan Fan…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No. It was not your fault, Young Master. It is no one's fault. You were curious about it. I will tell you about them, if you like." Lan Fan set her half-cleaned kunai on the ground before starting to speak.

"I was only a baby at the time. My parents were also guards of the Yao Clan. They were the best guards out of the entire clan. They said my mother was able to hit a man's eye with a knife ten feet away, while my father could take out an entire gang of men in a moment. They were truly amazing."

She paused momentarily—whether she was catching her breath or lamenting her parents, Ling didn't know. But Lan Fan pushed on. "They took their guard job very seriously. They almost never left their lord or lady's side. My mother even stayed in guard service for almost five months while she was pregnant with me. When she gave birth, she went back to protecting her lady very soon after. And then…" She swallowed. "Someone...it was a month after I had been born. My mother must have been still weak. She couldn't defend herself. My father took the blow instead. And…she herself went in a second. The lord and lady were safe, though.

"Grandfather took me in. He did everything for me. I couldn't ask for a better guardian." Lan Fan gazed at the surrounding plants. "I didn't have any friends to play with. I stayed with Grandfather the whole time, learning how to fight. It was lonely sometimes, but I was fine with it. But I wonder if it's too much to wish that my parents came back alive."

"Lan Fan…"

"You do not need to worry over me, Young Master." She picked up her knife and quickly rubbed the blade of it with the rag. She flipped it between her fingers and slipped it back into her belt. "I miss my parents. But everything I need is here. There is a job I must do. There is no time for me to waste." Lan Fan stood up, brushing any dirt off her black attire. "I have to protect you."

She glanced at him, her expression suddenly brisk and serious. "It must be close to our next lesson, Young Master. We should go."

Ling rose off the ground after she had taken a few steps toward the palace. He followed her, and then suddenly stopped. "Hey, Lan Fan."

She twisted her head. "What is it?"

"Thank you for sharing your unknown past with me."

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_Words: 697_

_Additional Notes: A _kunai _is the type of knife that Lan Fan fights with. It has a leaf-shaped blade, with a thin handle and a ring at the pommel. _

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	3. 003 Mirror

**A/N: Theme number three - _Mirror_**.

**Lan Fan seems sort of OoC in this one x.x Whoops.

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Lan Fan never looked in mirrors.

It wasn't like she needed to. Her job was to protect the Young Master, and checking on her appearance had nothing to do with it. When she did wash her face or retie her hair, she did it without looking at a single reflective surface. To her, mirrors were absolutely useless.

Fu had remarked on this before. "A young woman like you, even one of the guard clan would usually have at least one looking glass in her room," he had commented. "Your mother had one. It broke years ago, but it was something she treasured. It's good you take your guard duty so seriously, granddaughter, but there is no harm in owning something like that."

She told him that she had no use for one, and that she didn't care. He had taken it as an acceptable response, and as the truth. Afterward, Fu had nodded and patted her head in a kind way.

But what she had told her grandfather hadn't been correct. The real reason was a reality buried inside her, one that she hated to see. One that she didn't want to believe true.

When she looked in mirrors, she saw what she really was. Lan Fan couldn't sing, dance, or play an instrument. She was neither pretty nor elegant, and clothes were always ones that would hide the fact that she was a woman: loose and plain. Her face was nothing special, and she was of low birth. Whenever Lan Fan looked into the mirror, she saw the truth.

A girl who was not fit to love a prince.

She was the exact opposite of the many who could become his wife. She was truly useless when it came to fulfilling her duty as a woman. In her position, it would be considered shameful to even see him more than just a master.

It was almost cowardly of her, to hide away from the truth. It was something she had never done before. But Lan Fan still wanted to believe that she could love him, even though she had nothing. She pretended that she was good enough for him.

And she could only do that without looking into a mirror.

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_Words: 371_

_Additional Notes: None._

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	4. 004 Future

**A/N: Theme number four - _Future_.**

**Not exactly too fond of this one. I edited it a gazillion times. The grammar/spelling/etc. should be fine though.  


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The journey to Amestris was not easy, especially crossing the desert. It had been an exhausting day, and by night they were all tired. But it had been her turn to keep guard. So despite her weariness she sat silently by the sleeping forms of her grandfather and prince, keeping a lookout for predators or more. The wind blew a spray of sand toward her face; she raised her black scarf up in order to keep it from scratching her cheeks and flying into her eyes.

Lan Fan stayed calm and still, despite all her tiredness, the cold, and more. It was a still night, and the moon was bright. The sky looked like black silk, with glittering stars spread across it. The corners of her mouth turned up a little bit, into a very small smile. It was beautiful.

"You should smile more often," a voice whispered. "You look better than when you frown."

She jerked her head, and she found Ling gazing at her, still wrapped in his blankets. Lan Fan blinked in surprise. She had been sure he was asleep.

"Young Master," she said, ignoring his original statement. "You should be sleeping. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow."

"That's true. We need to get the Philosopher's Stone as soon as possible."

"Yes."

They fell silent for a moment. Then Ling spoke again. "Hey, Lan Fan. When we get the Philosopher's Stone, what do you suppose I'll do?"

"I guess…you'll…Young Master will go back to Xing, become the emperor, and…" Lan Fan trailed off. "You'll…"

Ling breathed out. "I know. That's about how far I've gotten as well. My future isn't planned out very well, isn't it?" He sat up and stretched, and moved to sit next to her. "I wonder…what about you, Lan Fan? What do you plan to do?"

She responded to the question without even thinking about it. "I'll protect you, and serve you, until the day I die. Nothing will change."

"Not that. What about your life? You're a girl, aren't you? Aren't you going to go and get…get married or something? Have a family?"

Lan Fan's eyes widened. "I…I don't know," she admitted. "I haven't thought about that. My mother was able to do that, but…I don't think I would be able to."

"Why? I'm sure lots of guys would like to marry you. You're not bad-looking, you know. You're smart too, and you know how to fight." Ling touched the tip of his finger with each trait. "And…well, there's a lot more."

Her cheeks turned slightly red from his comment, and she turned her head away. "That's not it. I…I don't think I would make a very good wife or mother, that's all. I don't know how to do anything like that."

"Hm…really?" Ling looked thoughtful for a moment. "Honestly, Lan Fan, I think that's a lie. You'd do pretty well. I mean, you spent your whole life babysitting me, haven't you? I swear, you're probably better at that than the noblewomen at court."

"I'm not _babysitting_ you, and you're wrong, I would not be a good—" she started, but stopped when she saw his face. He looked completely relaxed and above all, entertained.

Lan Fan was sure that Ling could probably see her blush, even in the pitch dark. The tips of her ears felt burning hot. She shifted herself so her back was facing him, completely obscuring his view of her face. Even so, she buried her face into the thick black scarf around her neck, even though there was no sand.

"All right, I'll withdraw for tonight." Ling laid back into a sleeping position, and drew the blanket closer around him. "You said nothing would ever change though. That means you'll stick with me in the whole future, right?"

"Yes." The word escaped from her lips, softly. And Lan Fan knew it was not just because her grandfather had told her that she was fated to protect Ling for the rest of her life. "I'll be there with you."

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_Words: 724_

_Additional Notes: None_

**Reviews are love :]**_  
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	5. 005 Scars

**A/N:Theme number five - _Scars._  
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**Uuuugh how real life gets in the way x_x I didn't have any time to write until today, and this one is freaking _short_. Like, Edward Elric short. Dx I wrote it in like, six minutes.  
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**I didn't really proofread it all too much and I'm sure it sucks really really bad so I'm sorry. I'll make the next one better.  


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There were two types of scars.

The first kind was nothing. They were the ones that covered her body on the outside, and the ones that Lan Fan had gotten used to. She could put a layer of ointment and bandage it, and all would be fine. To her, they were nothing.

The second kind was different. They were the scars that nobody could see, the ones that she had to bear on her own. No matter how much she tried to bandage them over, they wouldn't heal. They were ones that would not, in time, be covered over with skin and later vanish. They would stay with her for a long time.

There weren't that many of the second type of scars on Lan Fan. But they felt much more painful than the ones that came from sparring with her grandfather. She couldn't put a bandage over it and watch it heal within a few weeks. They stayed with her, and haunted her. And no one knew about those scars except Lan Fan herself, and the only one who could heal them was her.

But somehow he was able to find them all, and somehow all of the scars mysteriously vanished once he discovered them. And as time went on, Lan Fan realized that she alone had not been able to heal those wounds.

But with him, they were able to heal over. When he was by her side, when his power was lent to her, she could ignore the pain and move on. When Ling stayed with her, Lan Fan was free from all of the scars in her life.

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_Words: 272_

_Additional Notes: None_

**Reviews are love :]**_  
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	6. 006 Holiday

**A/N: Theme number six - _Holiday_. I made it uber long to make up for the short ones before. I'm sorry it took such a long time. End of the school year=finals. Projects. Stuff Dx**

**Enjoy.

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Holidays in Xing were rare, with an average of a couple each year. When they did take place, the country made a big show of it. The festivities were massive, and not a single person missed out on them. Traditionally, the emperor, his wives, and all of his children would also be carried in litters around the palace for the whole country to see. Even the princesses and princes of the lowest clans participated in the royal parade. Delicacies and delicious food was served, firecrackers were set off, and people danced to music. The citizens dressed up and wore their best traditional Xingese clothes. Holidays in Xing were full of excitement and happiness.

And on those days, Lan Fan didn't have a job.

The personal guards were usually dismissed for a day on festivals. The only ones surrounding the royal bloodline were the servants that aided them and an elite force of guards that had the emperor's personal trust. Anyone else was cut off, even the personal guards. Like her.

When she had been younger, she had seen the festival with her grandfather, and hadn't minded that she hadn't been able to be near her prince. Now at fourteen, she hated every moment that she was away from him. But Lan Fan couldn't do anything about it, since tradition was tradition. It could not be changed.

Fu had refused to let her accompany him to the festival like she had when she had been a small child. "A young lady like you should be enjoying these things without her grandfather accompanying her," he had said, surprising her. Most of the time he reminded her that she was a guard and could not stray from her duty. "Even though you are a guard of the Yao Clan, you are also a woman. You do not need to be ashamed of that. You should spend your time with the young ladies of the village, not with an old man like me." He had then given her a dress and had insisted that she wear it for the upcoming holiday.

Lan Fan had agreed, of course. How could she say no to her grandfather? But as she walked the streets of Xing in her silks, she felt oddly out of place. Despite what Fu thought, all of the women in the village disliked Lan Fan. No matter how quiet they tried to talk, she had heard their gossiping mouths before, about how unwomanly she was and that she would never grow up to become a filial wife. How Lan Fan was a failure at everything except being a murderer.

She hadn't cared back then. But now, as she wove her way through the crowd, Lan Fan felt more alone than ever. She wished for a single companion, even if the companion was a loud-mouthed girl who didn't even know how to hold a kunai properly.

The shouts and cries of dancing people sounded loudly in her ears, making her head hurt. Lan Fan slipped through two food stalls and headed away from the mass of people. Within moments the loud music and voices had faded into faint murmurs.

She stopped, and checked her surroundings. Judging by the sound of the festivities and the _qi_ coming from the village, she was probably half a mile away from the main street. There was nobody near Lan Fan at all. She was completely alone.

But somehow she felt better than she had when she had been on the street. It was quieter here, and she liked it. Noise had never suited her, anyway. She closed her eyes, and leaned against a tree. Nobody would miss her. It wasn't like she was important.

A gong sounded. The royal parade must have started. But Lan Fan didn't care, didn't move an inch. The parade meant nothing to her. It held no meaning for her.

She couldn't wait until the day was over and she could go back to doing what she was used to doing. When she could go back to being close to Ling again and knowing where he was.

Something pricked at her senses. There was a source of _qi_ drawing close to her. It was human, but she wasn't able to identify it among all of the other human _qi_ surrounding her.

Either way, she had no way of knowing whether it was friend or foe.

But she couldn't risk it. Lan Fan grabbed the kunai strapped to her leg and hurled it in the _qi_'s general direction. There was a distant _thump_, as if it had hit a tree. And then there was a wince. A very familiar wince.

"Geez, you think your paranoia would lessen on a day like this, but no. I almost wish you would. It makes me feel like I'm the reason why you don't know how to have any fun."  
"Y-Young Master!"

Ling stepped out, cheerfully tapping the tree Lan Fan had just been leaning against. He tossed the kunai that she had just thrown back into her hands. "Yup. Hi, Lan Fan."

She had no idea what to say, until she realized that the royal parade was going on and he was standing right in front of her. "Ah! Young Master, shouldn't you be at the parade? People will notice if you're missing!"

"What, the parade? I ditched it. Too boring. There's probably some servant looking for me right now. I bet they're checking the food stalls though; they won't think of here."

Lan Fan resisted an urge to bang her head against a tree. Instead, she slipped her kunai back into the strap on her leg.

"But you know, I'd rather be here than pigging out at the food stalls. I'd rather be with you, you know. I missed you." He frowned for a moment. "Is that dress new?"

"Um…well, yes." She turned to face away from him, slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I'm not dressed properly today—"

"No, it's fine." Ling stepped forward and took hold of her arm, the white silk cool and slippery between his fingers. "I actually…I actually like it a lot. It looks really good on you, Lan Fan. It really does."

"T…thank you." She expected him to let go, but Ling still held onto her arm. He spoke again. "There's something missing, though…"

"What?"  
He reached up and pulled the strip of cloth that kept her hair up into a tight bun; it gave way and her black tresses fell down in a thick screen. They were as soft and smooth as the silk that made up Lan Fan's dress. She twisted her head, feeling the unfamiliar lightness. "What did you—"

"Much better." Ling held a lock of her now loose black hair between his fingers. "You look beautiful. Like a princess."

Her face felt as warm as a roaring fire. "I, I'm not," she stammered. "Compared to the other woman in the village…and the real princesses…my dress is plain and I don't have anything in my hair…"

"Who said that they were good-looking?" Ling let go of her hair. "They might think they look pretty, but with that amount of jewelry and makeup they look like ghosts. I like the simplicity of your hair and dress. It suits you."

"I…" But she was cut off by a boom and an explosion of light. Ling looked up, and his face became full of rapture. "Lan Fan! Look! Fireworks! Aren't they pretty?"

A blast of swirling blue and pink lit up Ling's face. Lan Fan couldn't help but smile. "Yes," she said. "They're lovely."

They stood together, watching the fireworks. It was so calm, and Lan Fan couldn't help but feel a little bit happy. If only the moment would last forever—

"Young Master! Twelfth prince of Xing Ling Yao! Where have you been? We were looking all over for you! We couldn't find you during the parade, and so many people were upset—"

Ling swore underneath his breath. "I didn't think those servants would find me that quickly! Lan Fan, come on!" He grabbed her hand and began to run away from the (breathless and angry) servant, taking Lan Fan with him. She sprinted after him, nearly tripping in her long dress. "Ling!" she cried, realizing her mistake too late.

He gave her one of his trademark grins, before running faster. "Lan Fan, come on!" he shouted. She could only momentarily shake her head before running faster to keep her hand from being pulled out of his.

Maybe holidays weren't so bad after all.

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_Words: 1,451_

_Additional Notes: "Qi" is...well, it's how Lan Fan and Ling are able to sense homunculi. In Chinese, "qi" is literally "steam" or rather, breath. It is spelled "ki" in Japanese, but "qi" in Chinese. I chose the Chinese way because Xing is basically China in FMA.  
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	7. 007 Tear Stained Face

**A/N: Theme number seven - _Tear-Stained Face_. **

**WARNING: SPOILERS FOR CHAPTERS...uh. Well, make sure you're caught up pretty far in the FMA manga/anime otherwise you're screwed. And don't start spamming me going "WTF YOU JUST SPOILED IT FOR ME". I mentioned it in the author's note. Wait, do you people even read these things?**

**Put some slight Royai in there because I couldn't help it XD  


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Ling had never seen Lan Fan cry in Xing, not even once. Whatever the occasion, her face and eyes remained dry.

He had decided that he wanted to see Lan Fan cry, just once, before he died. He wanted to see his stony-faced guard lose some of her stiffness and have emotion. Back then, the wish seemed like one of the other wishes he had desired: travel to Creta, sample all of the food that had ever existed, become the emperor of Xing. It seemed like nothing more than a child's wish.

But when they came to Amestris, she had done a lot of crying. She had cried over the loss of her arm, the death of her grandfather, and when she had found out that he had become a homunculus.

Afterward, Ling wished that he had never seen her cry. He wished that she wouldn't cry anymore. And most of all, he hated himself for _wanting_ to see her cry.

When she cried, his entire body felt like it had turned to ice. The sound of it was more painful than anything he had ever heard. Her face was no longer the delicate, beautiful features he had known all of his life but full of more pain than anyone should bear. He longed to see her stoic-yet-happy expression once more, rather than the thick tears that rolled down her cheeks.

But as they were traveling back to Xing, he remembered something else: On the day that Roy Mustang had been crowned Fuhrer and he had been married to his former lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, Lan Fan had had tears rolling down her eyes. "How weird," he wondered out loud.

"What is it, Young Master?" Lan Fan looked up from polishing her automail.

"Ah." He had not realized that he had spoken. "Well…it's nothing. Okay, actually it's not. I was wondering why you were crying when Mustang became Fuhrer and married the lieutenant."

Lan Fan paused for a while before answering. "No reason, really. I was just glad for them, that's all."

"Oh. You were really happy. I thought you were crying because you were sad or something."

"No." She gave him a slight smile. "Not everyone cries just because they're sad, you know."

"Yeah, I know." He nodded. "I know."

Lan Fan returned to rubbing her automail. He spoke again. "Hey, Lan Fan."

"What?"

"The only time I want to see your tear-stained face again is when you're happy."

She turned a light pink, but nodded. "I promise."

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_Words: 432_

_Additional Notes: Before you guys total spazz out thinking "HOLY CRAP RAINSTREAM WHAT THE HECK WERE YOU THINKING LAN FAN'S GONNA BURN AND DIE IN THE DESERT", Lan Fan and Ling are traveling back to Xing by sea. They only went the desert way in the beginning because they wanted to see the ruins of Xerxes, remember?_

**Reviews are love :]**_  
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	8. 008 Letters

**A/N: Theme number eight - _Letters_.**

**This one's also uber short ;-; I'm sorry. **

**One last notice, and then I'll stop talking.  
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**Remember theme number six, **_**Holiday**_**? Yeah, well, I drew a picture to go along with it. _It's located in my profile._ I'm not putting it here because A:LKDSFJ Fanfiction has an awful thing that destroys links in stories ;-;**

**Moving on.**

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They were useless, they truly were.

Lan Fan didn't even know why she wrote them. Why she asked Doctor Knox for the pen and paper. How she mustered the strength to paint the elaborate characters on the thin sheet of paper.

She wrote them in Xingese, so only she would be able to read them. And they were messy. Very messy. Her handwriting had never been too particularly good, but writing while she was in pain made the characters almost unreadable. The page was also splattered with ink and cross-outs, making it look disastrous.

It didn't matter anyway. They would never be sent. The doctor probably thought she was keeping a journal or something similar. If he had thought that Lan Fan was writing letters, the idea of it would have been long discarded since he never received something to post. But she had been, and letters stayed stuffed under the mattress. Never read. Never seen. Never sent to the person who it was intended for.

Some of the letters were countless apologies, the same words written a thousand times over the same paper. Others were ones that Lan Fan threw into the trash can the moment she finished. But as time passed the amount of paper wads in the metal bin slowly diminished, and more flat sheets of paper wound up under the mattress. Until the one day that Lan Fan finally penned the words that she had meant to write for a long time without crumpling it into a tiny wad.

The letter hadn't gone under the mattress, like the other ones. Instead, it stayed tucked in the leg strap where she kept her kunai, waiting for the day that she could deliver the letter that she had been meaning to send for so long.

_Dear Ling,_

_I love you._

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_Words: 305_

_Additional Notes: None. Actually, there is one. Let me freak out/fangirl for a moment since Lan Fan called him "Ling" in the story. Wait, why am I even fangirling over a story _I_ wrote? This isn't even an additional note anymore. I'll shut up._

**Reviews are love :]**_  
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	9. 009 Fever

**A/N: Theme number nine - _Fever_. Spoiler~ish if you don't know what happened to Lan Fan's arm, although I'm pretty sure most people have been caught up to that. This one takes place when Lan Fan gets her automail.**

**I wrote in present tense this time. Writing in present tense feels cool for me. But then I usually screw up more easily when writing in present tense which is why I don't do it that often x.x**

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It is the fever, and she knows it.

The automail surgery. Even as it is finished, the fever remains. Her forehead has already burst out in sweat, and her breathing is hot and labored. The freshly added metal and screws only add to the fire, making her entire body blaze. The pain is excruciating, and she can taste blood in the back of her throat, waiting to be vomited up.

The engineer next to her is sticking syringes into her arm, pouring liquids and medicines into her bloodstream. For a moment as the painkillers enter her body the searing hot feeling disappears, before returning as strong as ever. But the pain gradually dulls, and the sedatives blurs out her mind. The world wavers. Her eyes close, shutting out the staggeringly bright light.

But even through the cloud of drugs Lan Fan is able to feel the fever raging through her. It burns her, scorches her dry. She can no longer feel the cooling sweat on her forehead. She thinks that she will die, that her body cannot hold up and stand this—

_Lan Fan. _

It is his voice that enters her ears, and she is sure of it. Her lids open (or do her eyes open in her mind and imagination?) and he is standing there, his familiar face looking at hers. He is there, he definitely is—

No, he is not. Lan Fan reminds herself that he is not here, that he is not quite her young master anymore. That he is now the homunculus Greed. But she cannot help it. She sees him there, and he is next to her, well and alive.

_Lan Fan_, he says. _You can do it. I will always be patiently waiting for you, for eternity. So get well and come back to me. You can't die. I can't become the emperor without you next to me. Promise me. _

And she promises, swearing that she won't leave him. She makes a promise to a ghost born from fevered dreams. And she knows that he is not real, that he is not actually next to her. But Lan Fan decides that even for just a moment, it feels nice to have someone who is willing to wait forever for her.

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_Words: 376_

_Additional Notes: None_

**Reviews are love :]**_  
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	10. 010 Ceremony

**A/N: Theme number ten - _Ceremony_. What do you know. This one's longer than usual. XD**

**This one's kind of angsty/ooc, but I was in a mood to write something angsty XDD Sorry.**

_**IMPORTANT NOTICE**_

**I will be on vacation from **_**6/20 to 7/5. I probably won't be updating from that time period, unless some magic internet and computer access comes up. I'll probably keep writing, although there are no definite guarantees.  
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The coronation ceremony was definitely not small. As Lan Fan waited, she couldn't help but stare in wonder at her surroundings. Everything was gold and red, and the entire room was perfumed with the scent of honeysuckle. The delicate yellow and white flowers had been poured over the floor into a bed of soft petals for the emperor to walk on. Tiny carved lamps were lit around the throne, and there were myriad more decorations in the throne room.

It was dazzling. Everything was perfect. The massive doors were thrown wide open, so the people could watch the new emperor receive his crown. There was not a single mishap in sight. Except...

Where was the new emperor? Usually by now he would be appearing, flanked by two priests. But he was nowhere in sight, and the crowd was getting impatient. Lan Fan herself was not part of the ceremony, since all she did was sit behind the throne. But she knew that it was her duty to find him if he became lost. And right then, she was quite sure that he had gone off somewhere.

Checking to make sure her absence wouldn't be noticed, Lan Fan bounded away, and took off in a sprint. Within no time she had reached the place where the priests and the new emperor were supposed to leave for the throne room. Lan Fan slipped in through the open window and surveyed the room. Empty, save for two knocked out priests-most likely with a tap on the head with a _dao_ knife. The masked guard nearly pounded her head against the wall. _Your Highness..._

She had no idea where else he could be. He was probably somewhere in the city limit, but the place was huge. Cursing a little bit under her breath, Lan Fan leapt out of the window and began to search the rest of the city for him. It was an exhausting task, and it took her twenty minutes just to quickly skim around. But even so, she still hadn't found him, and she was sure that the people and the guards were probably panicking. It had been twenty minutes, after all.

Cursing again, she began to return toward the throne room, hoping that he had gone there after all. But as she headed there, something caught her eye—a dense clearing just outside the city limits. She and Ling had played there before when they had been small children. Lan Fan only thought for a moment before straying off the path and heading into the clearing. And within a few seconds of full-blown sprinting, she had arrived in front of a figure with a sloppy ponytail and dirtied robes. He had a thoughtful but almost mournful expression on his face. Lan Fan's fist tightened a little. The only time her prince had that expression on his face was when something was greatly bothering him.

"Your Highness," she said. "Everyone is waiting. They are searching for you. Your coronation ceremony was supposed to take place quite a while ago."

"Lan Fan." He turned his head to face her. "Am I really fit to be the emperor?"

"W…what are you saying?" she stuttered, taken off guard. "Y…You've waited for this day for so long, and you're doubting yourself now? But…of course you're fit to be the emperor of Xing. You're thoughtful, patient, and caring, and so much more. Your Highness…"

"I'm not even the king yet, and you've already switched from 'Young Master' to 'Your Highness'. He gave a bitter laugh. "I suppose that because I got the Philosopher's Stone, I have a right to be king. But how many people have I killed with these hands, Lan Fan?" He held out his palms, before clenching it up into a tight fist. "Is this murderer really fit to be responsible for all of the people living in this country?"

"Some things are unavoidable," she said. "Some of it was necessary…some it was what that homunculus did. It's not all your fault."

"And I can just treat those people as collateral damage?" Ling shook his head. "Lan Fan…I've wanted this all my life. But now that it's actually here, I'm realizing all of these things. Once I become emperor, I'm not even going to have my old life back. And if I make one wrong move, that single mistake could start a war. And it's all going to be my fault."

"Stop that already!"

Ling looked up, surprised. Lan Fan rarely spoke against him. "Don't call yourself a 'murderer' or say that it's all your fault. It's not." She looked at him, her eyes blazing through the painted mask. "You're not going to mess up, and you're not going to treat anybody lost as collateral damage. You'll honor them, and you'll remember them. You'll be a good king. And why do I know this? It's because I've spent almost all of my life next to you."

Ling stared at her with his mouth wide open for a good ten seconds before shutting it. Lan Fan clamped her own hand over her own mouth. "I'm sorry!" she said. "I spoke out of turn. Please forgive me, Your Highness."

"No," he said. "Don't apologize, Lan Fan. Instead, thank you. I have more confidence now, thanks to you." He stood up, and turned to face her, his expression no longer one of sorrow. Instead, it was lit with determination. "I'm going to become the emperor of Xing now. Come, Lan Fan."

The coronation ceremony went on flawlessly, with Ling making up an excuse that the priests had fainted on their own and he had gone to seek medical help. Fortunately, the two old men had had no recollection of the young prince hitting them on the head with his _dao_, and had also believed the lie. He had received his crown, and the twelfth prince in line became the emperor of Xing. The crowd had been ecstatic and extremely loud, the loudest being the Yao clansmen. The rest of the day was filled with festivities and celebration, and it wasn't until several hours past midnight that Ling Yao retired to his new bedroom chamber.

She was already sitting outside under the window, guarding him. He couldn't help it; he let out a small laugh escape from his lips. She was so obedient and still, even on a day like this.

Lan Fan's ears pricked at the sound. "Is there anything wrong, Your Highness?" she called through the window.

"Nothing," he replied. "Nothing at all."

"Good," she said.

Ling drew back the covers on his new bed and extinguished the lamp. Lan Fan was sure he had fallen asleep, since all she could hear were the sounds of cicadas chirping. But his voice suddenly surprised him. "Lan Fan."

She jerked her head around, her hand automatically going down to her belt to reach her knives. "Your Highness!"

"Thank you. Again. I wouldn't have been able to do that without you supporting me." And then with that, there was a rustle of silk as Ling turned over. Within moments Lan Fan heard his breathing even out.

Maybe it was shameful for a guard to act this way, but she couldn't help it. As her cheeks heated up under her mask, she couldn't help but smile a little.

"You're welcome, Ling."

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_Words: 1,283_

_Additional Notes: The whole ceremony crap was made up so don't think that it actually happens when an emperor gets crowned XDD_

**Reviews are love :]**_  
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	11. 011 White Lie

**A/N: I'm back :D I didn't write all that much over my vacation though; there wasn't all too much time. I only have two. Sorry.**

**Theme number eleven - _White Lie_.  
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**I seriously need to stop writing these late-night desert talks. Aargh. They're so fun and easy to write though T_T**

**If you haven't read chapter 108 of FMA then there may be slight spoilers.**

**Slight OoC-ness, I think...I'm not all too sure though.  
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She hated the desert.

When she had first crossed the sandy hell, it had been scorching hot and thirsty. The journey had been tough, even for Lan Fan, who had been taught to endure pain her entire life. Worse, she had been forced to exchange her armor for the loose gown-like robe, which had made her feel uneasy. There was no armored plate, or anything to protect herself with. Stowing her weapons away was even more of a problem, as she had to tie several strips of cloth to her arms and legs to keep knives and explosives in.

But now it was even more difficult. Lan Fan's left arm was replaced by one made of metal now, and the blazing heat was ten times more painful. The automail turned into molten steel, and her skin burned from the prosthetic limb. It was absolute torture.

However, Lan Fan couldn't complain. Her Young Master had to get back to Xing as quickly as he could, and she knew that if he knew that she was getting burned, he would hold back. Ling, of course, had no idea that the metal limb would act badly in the desert, since he knew very little about automail. And there was no way that she would do something selfish like complaining. She would have to deal with it by herself.

They had been journeying for almost a week now, and they were nearly at the Xerxes ruins. The sun and heat was no better, and despite the fact that Lan Fan had tried her best to keep it away from direct sunlight, she had burn marks surrounding her automail. It was extremely painful, and the fact that she had no medicine to even help it heal made it even more hellish.

It was night, and Lan Fan's watch. She sat outside the tent they had set up, keeping an eye out for predators or worse. What was more that she was sure that the Chang girl and her Young Master was asleep, and she could check on her injuries.

Gritting her teeth, she peeled back the light brown robe to expose her delicate skin. The marks were not pleasant; the skin around it had turned a brilliant shade of red. It wasn't very serious, but when Lan Fan gently touched it with her finger, it stung as sharp as a snake bite. Before she could help it, she let a small hiss escape from between her teeth. The Chang girl would probably be able to heal it if she asked, but it there was no way she was actually going to. That would be selfish and stupid, and would delay their journey back to Xing even more, not to mention that her Young Master would probably also find out—

"What are you doing?" Ling pulled back the flap of their tent. His eyes were still crusted with sleep, and his hair was nearly pulled loose from its messy tying. His hand gripped the handle of his knife. "I thought I heard something."

"No, there's nothing." She hastily shoved the shoulder of her robe back up, concealing her burns. "I don't sense any _qi_."

"That's good." He relaxed, and his grip on the _dao_ slackened. "I guess I'll go back to sleep then—wait. Lan Fan."

"What?"

Ling dropped down next to her. "You were hiding something from me before I came, weren't you? I saw you pull up the shoulder of your clothes there. And that noise that I heard from before—it didn't sound like an animal. And you were the only one out there. It was you, wasn't it? Something's up with your shoulder." When she didn't answer, his gaze hardened. "Lan Fan, show me your shoulder. _Now_."

"Young Master, there's nothing to see…" she trailed off, turning her head to look away from him.

"You liar. I've always known when you're lying. You always look away from me whenever you start lying." Ling crossed his arms. "Lan Fan, I'm serious. Don't defy me."

Lan Fan had lost, and she knew it. She tugged at the robe again, exposing just barely enough to expose the beginnings of her automail burns. "There," she muttered. "Are you pleased, Young Master?"

Ling clenched his fists, sweeping his gaze over the damaged skin. "You idiot," he breathed, looking at her. "You idiot, Lan Fan!"

"Young Master…"

"How long, Lan Fan. How long has this been going on?"

"Almost since the beginning of the journey," she answered in a voice a notch quieter than usual. "Please, Young Master, it wasn't anything of worry…"

"Yes it is." He dug his fingers into the ground. "I said I was going to be emperor, Lan Fan, and that I was going to take care of everyone. That everyone would be in my consideration. Don't think that doesn't include you, you idiot!"

"Wait…" She twisted herself to face him, but was startled by the presence of his arm wrapping around her. "Young…Master…"

"Don't do that again, Lan Fan…" he whispered, burying his face into her uninjured shoulder. "I can't stand watching you get hurt again."

"I…it's not your fault…"

"Yes it is. It's because I was careless and failed to notice that you were in pain." He opened his fist, and closed it again. "I've already seen you in enough pain already, Lan Fan. And I know you only cover it up with lies, Lan Fan. Don't lie to me anymore. Never."

Lan Fan was too lost for words, but before she could even think of anything to say, Ling stood up, and entered the tent. "Chang!" he called. "Get up. We're moving."

"Wha…Prince Yao…but it's still night…" May protested sleepily. "We can travel a lot of ground tomorrow…"

"That's not my point," he answered. "Lan Fan is getting burned by her automail. She can't expose it to the sun anymore. Night is the only time when the sun doesn't come out in the desert, and when she can travel safely. We're leaving soon. Heal Lan Fan's shoulder while you're at it too." The young prince began to take apart the poles that held up the tent. "And do so quickly, Chang."

"Greedy slave-driving prince," May muttered, but she too helped take apart the camp. Within ten minutes the camels were saddled, the bags were packed, and Lan Fan's shoulder was healed with alkahestry. Ling tugged on the camel's rein, and the tall creature began to walk. The other two did the same.

Ling pulled his camel up next to Lan Fan's. "How is it?" he asked.

She let go of the leather rein and drew her hand up to her shoulder, touching the freshly healed skin. "It feels much better," she said.

"Good," he said. "That's the way it should always be."

She gave a slight nod. "I understand, Young Master. I'll take better care of myself."

"You had better. That's a promise, Lan Fan, not a statement."

Lan Fan smiled underneath her mask. "Okay. I promise."

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_Words: 1,208_

_Additional Notes: Here's a fan-made solution on how Lan Fan's going to cross the desert. Although it's more likely that when May, Ling, and Lan Fan traveled back to Xing they took a ship route.  
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**Reviews are love :]**_  
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	12. 012 Awake

**Theme number twelve - _Awake_. **

**FJSDL:AS"A need to stop writing these late desert themes AAH D:**

**Please bear with me as I try to get over this stage. I think the next theme is pretty un-desert-y though; and the one after that too. Argh. Must get over writing so many things about their journey to/back from Amestris.**

**Also Ling gets quite OoC in this one x.x**

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The night was crisp and clear, and the stars were bright. It was pleasantly cool as well for once; Lan Fan could feel the gentle breeze swaying her black hair. She longed to take off her mask to feel the wind more clearly, but she didn't dare. If Grandfather found out she would surely get into big trouble.

But he wasn't awake now, was he? Fu was silently sleeping next to a tent pole, a blade gripped in his hands. He had been like that for the past hour or so. Lan Fan raised her hands to remove the string that tied to decorated face to her head—and then Fu rolled over and shifted, grunting. The young warrior froze at once, before slowly lowering her hands into her lap. She folded her fingers over the handle of a kunai rather than the strings of her mask. And it stayed that way for nearly two hours. Lan Fan kept the same stiff posture and the same firm grip on her kunai without moving a single inch.

The breeze surfaced again, and the ends of her hair tickled her chin, making her twist her lip in discomfort. How Lan Fan wished to remove her mask again, but she dared not. With Grandfather sleeping so close, it was a too risky of a gamble to take.

There was a small crunch, as if someone's shoe had stepped on the gritty sand. Lan Fan immediately leaped up, holding her blades out. "Who's there?" she demanded. "Show yourself at once!"

"It's only me."

She froze. "Young Master?"

"None other."

"You should be sleeping."

"You've told me that for the past few years when I've woken up, Lan Fan. Give me a break. Sometimes I can't sleep. I'm just awake."

"Oh." She fell silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. There was the sound of the sand being pushed away, and she realized that Ling was sitting next to her, his sword carelessly tied across his back.

Lan Fan winced. Situations like these were the ones she tried to avoid the most: being alone with the Young Master with her grandfather either out of sight, unaware of the situation, or asleep.

"Young Master," she said, choosing her words carefully, "While you may not be able to sleep right now you should at least try to rest inside. It is more comfortable there, and you need to regain your energy try. We have much ground to cover tomorrow."

"So what about you?" Ling challenged. "I bet you haven't slept or rested in a comfortable tent in days."

She didn't answer again. Ling knew that he had won, but her stubbornness refused to let it be so. Instead, he settled more comfortably on the ground. "It's really cool tonight."

"Mm." Lan Fan watched as he held a hand out to feel the surprisingly cool desert wind. "I suppose it would."

"'Suppose?'"Ling turned and watched her for a moment. "Of course you would say 'suppose', because you don't have your mask off and can't feel anything," he said slowly. "Well then, I suppose I'll just have to remedy that."

Before she could even react, her mask was already lying in her lap, the strings pulled apart. The wind rushed into her bare face, moving her hair freely. A grain of sand struck her cheek, but the stinging sensation that followed wasn't bad. In fact, it felt more like a drop of freedom rather than a sharp sand grain.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Ling picked up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers. "You shouldn't keep your mask on all the time, Lan Fan. You're missing out on a lot. Give yourself a little freedom from time to time, when Fu's not looking. Besides," he added, "That mask hides your beautiful face from me, Lan Fan, and I want to see it."

"Young Master!" she cried, before slapping a hand over her mouth, realizing her grandfather was a light sleeper. They had been talking in low whispers beforehand, so it would be unlikely that he would have heard them. But now…surely he would have wakened at her sudden outburst.

Ling stood up. "I'd better go," he said in a whispered undertone. "But don't keep all of these nights to yourself, Lan Fan. Share it." And he vanished into the folds of the tent, the flaps still gently swaying before a hand reached out and tied them shut with a leather cord.

There was a brief silence, before there was another grunt, and then a voice. "Lan Fan?"  
She hurried tied her mask back onto her face. "Yes, Grandfather?"

"I thought I heard something. Was there anything?"

"No, Grandfather," she replied. "There's nothing. It's a clear night." Lan Fan turned her head to face the night sky. "Absolutely clear. It's perfect."

"Hmph." Fu grumped. He turned his back to her. "Is that so? Then make sure it stays that way, then."

"Yes," Lan Fan answered. "I will."

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_Words: 867_

_Additional Notes: None._

**Reviews are love :]**_  
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	13. 013 Bandages

**A/N: Theme number thirteen - _Bandages_. Slightly angst-like.**

**This one's not direct LingFan, but more like from someone else's viewpoint. In this case, it's Doctor Knox. The story is told from Lan Fan's point of view, though.  


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She hated it whenever Doctor Knox changed her bandages.

It was not because of the ripping, startling pain that arose once the linen strips came off. It was not because of the sudden wash of red that flew across her vision, making her want to gag on the thick iron smell. It was not because of the severed stump that was disgustingly ugly to look at, the stump that kept her life dangling precariously off the edge. It was none of them.

It was the memories. The memories that suddenly attacked her the moment the first layer of linen was peeled off. And it was the guilt too; the guilt that triggered once the memories came.

The guilt that she hadn't been able to protect her Young Master.

_ Memories drift past her; a burning feeling rips through her. She is seeing Bradley's sword once more, flashing silver and swifter than a running fox. Her own blood falls onto the ground like scarlet rain. For a moment she is vaguely aware that her Young Master is picking her up, and she tries to fight back. _Leave me here,_ she wants to say. _I am of no use anymore.

_But he takes her and runs anyway. Her head clears after a few moments, despite the horrid feeling that channels through her veins. Her pleading to leave her behind is completely useless, and she is suddenly aware of the blood trail that her swaying arm is leaving behind. The _qi_ of a homunculus pricks her half-dulled senses, and she realizes that she is leading both herself and her Young Master to death. If that blood didn't stop dripping soon, they would both…_

_ Forcing her almost-dead mind to work, she lifts her kunai. It is her fault, so she must be the one to fix it. Years of training with her Grandfather had had that firmly drilled into her mind. Her shaking fingers lift the knife up to her shoulder; her teeth bite down on the thick material of her collar. Her Young Master turns his head, screams at her to stop. "LAN FAN!"_

_ And suddenly the pain is real, her kunai slicing through flesh and muscle and bone. It burns like fire, and her teeth gnash furiously through her collar. _Just let me die, let me die already—

"Mmph!"

"Oh, did you wake up?" Doctor Knox stopped pressing a disinfectant-soaked towel to her wound. He dropped the towel in a tub of water, if it could even be called water at that point. Her old bandages were already soaking in the tub, and had turned the clear liquid to a murky reddish-brown.

Lan Fan was suddenly aware of something tough and fiber-like resting on her tongue and teeth. The doctor leaned over and removed a washcloth from her mouth. "Sorry about that, kid. Didn't want your tongue bitten off."

The pain from the disinfecting was excruciating, and Lan Fan was amazed that she had been able to sleep through half of it. Despite the fact that Doctor Knox had discarded the towel, it still felt like it was touching her skin, and the antiseptic soaking into her flesh.

Knox picked up a roll of bandages and unraveled several yards of the cloth. "You're lucky you didn't get lockjaw," he said through his cigarette. He exhaled, and smoke drifted around her like clouds. The wispy gray smoke reminded her of incense, like the ones in temples in Xing. "If you did, you'd be in a much worse, condition, girl. Personally, I'm amazed that you haven't contacted it yet."

Xing. She felt an internal stab within her. It was all her fault that they weren't back in her home country with the way of immortality, and that the Yao Clan wasn't in the favor of the emperor. If she hadn't gotten injured, the homunculus would already be on its way to the east.

_Lan Fan! We're getting out of here! That monster was keeping another monster inside his belly! He's swallowing up everything!_

His voice drifted back to her, and she gritted her teeth. If only she hadn't been injured by Bradley…if only her arm hadn't been cut off…they wouldn't have spent so much time over her. She could have helped subdue that monster, and if she had, her Young Master wouldn't be out of her sight. It was all her fault, all her…

"It isn't your fault," Knox said. He exhaled more smoke into the room. "Don't start blaming yourself, kid."

Lan Fan looked over, surprised. _How did he know…?_

"Hmmph." Knox finished rewrapping her injury and sat down on the chair next to the bed. "My wife and I had a daughter, after we had our son. But the baby was stillborn. She started blaming herself immediately. Ever since then, I've been able to tell."

"I…I'm sorry," Lan Fan murmured, not knowing what else to say.

"Nah," he answered. "What's done is done. I don't know if my wife still blames herself, since I haven't seen her in six years."

"But surely Young Master still blames me," Lan Fan whispered, barely loud enough for Knox to hear. "I should have been there, to fight off that monster…"

Knox snorted. "You mean that idiotic kid with you? The one with the spiky hair and ponytail?"

"Young Master is not an idiot!" she automatically defended.

"Idiot or not, girl, he's not naïve. Nobody's blaming you. You're only blaming yourself."

"But…if I hadn't gotten injured…"

"Tch! Why am I wasting my time with you?" Knox extinguished his cigarette and ground it under his foot, leaving gray smudge marks on the tile floor. "Lan Fen or whatever your name is, stop spewing this kind of nonsense! That kid isn't going to blame you. If you want my personal look on it, your life is extremely important to him. Now go and get some sleep before I go and put you to sleep myself!" Much to Lan Fan's surprise, the doctor stood up, swung open the bedroom door and slammed it shut.

Silence. She sat there for a moment, before sliding under the sheets and pulling them tight with her good arm. "Thank you," she whispered.

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_Words: 1,050_

_Additional Notes: I swear, I made it sound like Doctor Knox supports LingFan or something. LOL. And apparently he doesn't know his patient's name either._

**Reviews are love :]**_  
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	14. 014 Sick

**A/N: I AM SO FREAKING SORRY THAT I HAVE NOT UPDATED IN FREAKING FOREVER. I FINISHED WRITING THIS WEEKS AGO BUT FOR SOME REASON LACKED THE MOTIVATION TO POST IT UP. YOU ARE ALLOWED TO GET MAD AT ME IN THE COMMENTS. THAT IS ALL.**

**Okay not really. That's _not_ all. I have to do the boring introduction. **

**Theme number fourteen - _Sick_. Pretty lame/common theme but one I had fun writing.

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**In her entire memory, Lan Fan could not remember once when she had been sick. Her Young Master had gotten sick many times before, but not once had she caught it.

So when she began feeling lightheaded and dizzy, Lan Fan simply waved it off as a side effect of the cold winter rain. Her throat had a slight burning sensation in it, but she had eaten a spicy lunch. Nothing more, she thought as she sat outside the Young Master's window. Nothing more.

There was a slight rustling, and the thick rice paper covering the window rolled up. "Lan Fan? Are you out there?"

"Young Master!" She stood up, and nearly fell back down from a sudden bout of dizziness. _Again, probably the cold weather. _ Lan Fan slammed a hand on the wall to steady herself. Ling poked his head out, and shut his eyes when the rain shot towards his face. When he opened them again and saw her standing there, he looked surprised, and maybe a little bit horrified.

"So you _were_ there. Come inside." He lifted the rice paper up more, until there was a human-sized gap between the paper and the window.

"Wha-" she protested. "Young Master, I need to stay outside to guard you."

"In this weather? You must be absolutely nuts. Get inside _now_ Lan Fan. That's an order."

An order. She couldn't disobey him when those words came out of his mouth. Lan Fan silently leaped through the window and waited. Ling replaced the rice paper and turned to face her. "Lan Fan," he said in a slightly exasperated tone. "What am I going to do with you?"

She took a brief glance at herself. Her clothes were soaking wet, and to her horror the water was sliding off the metal on her armor and onto the floor of _his bedroom_.

"Young Master!" she cried out. "I am so sorry! Please forgive me!"

"Forgive you for what?" Ling dropped a soft, fluffy towel on her sodden hair. "Here, dry yourself before you catch a cold. Although you might have already, seeing that you were outside for so long."

"But…this is…!" She pulled the towel off her head. The fibers were soft, and made with the highest quality of cotton there was. It was clearly meant for a prince like him, not a commoner like her. "This is…"

"You really intend to get me in a bad mood, don't you?" Ling said in a cheerful voice. Suddenly his tone darkened. "Take off that mask, dry yourself with that towel, and sit down over there when you're done. I'll be getting you something hot. Don't even think of disobeying." He slipped out of the room and closed the door, leaving Lan Fan dripping water with a fluffy towel in her hand.

There was nothing she could do. It was, after all, an order. Grudgingly she removed her mask and began to dry herself, until the entire towel was a soaking mess.

_Young Master is too kindhearted_, she thought. _But then, maybe it isn't a bad thing._

After she finished thinking of that, she sneezed.

It was exactly as Ling had predicted. Within the next day Lan Fan had woken up in bed with a raging fever. Fu felt her forehead, tsked, and found a cool washcloth for her. "I'll take care of the Young Master today," he said. "You stay here and rest so you can be better tomorrow."

Lan Fan could only give a slight moan. Her throat felt as if it had been scratched with sand, and she could barely breathe, for her nose had been plugged up. Her head hurt, and her muscles ached. It felt far worse than the end of a training session with Fu. In fact, she would have given anything to be able to stand up straight with a perfectly clear mind and fight. Lan Fan tried to sit up and she felt her head and strength drain; instantly she flopped back down onto her soft sleeping mat.

She gave up on trying to sit up and make a comeback. Instead, she curled up in her sheets and closed her eyes. _I'll sleep for a little while. I'll feel better then._

It was the smell of food that woke Lan Fan up. She blinked sleepily, and turned over on her side. The washcloth fell off her forehead, and she picked it up, expecting it to be dried up and warm. Instead, it was cold and damp.

The scent of something reached her: chicken, salt, spices, and more. Her mouth watered, and she remembered that she hadn't eaten anything since the day before. The aroma was tantalizing.

"Grandfather?" she called.

"Who are you calling your grandfather?" Ling poked his head out of her kitchen, holding a spoon. "I'm almost done, so take it easy."

"Young Master!" she cried out, immediately sitting up. "What are you…ugh…" Lan Fan clamped her hand to her head, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her throat burned like fire from the simple action of speaking.

"Hey, I told you to take it easy!" She felt a hand gently but firmly push her back down onto the mat. "Don't do anything reckless, you idiot." Ling took the cloth that had fallen off her forehead, and replaced it. The cold water trickled down her head, and into her hair.

"Why…are you here?" she managed to rasp out.

Ling shook his head. "That doesn't matter. Here, I think it's done." He quickly strode over to her kitchen and came back with a bowl filled with rice porridge. Bits of preserved egg, salted vegetable, and chicken floated in the mass of hot rice. The young prince deftly mixed it up before spooning it up on a porcelain soupspoon. "I hate to make you sit back up right after I had you lie back down," he said, "but it's the only way you can eat this without choking."

Lan Fan unsteadily pulled herself up, and Ling placed a hand on her back, supporting her. "Here," he said. "That's fine.

"Now, eat." He held out the soupspoon, laden with the porridge. Steam rose from the thick mess, and he gently blew on it. Seeing her slightly mortified reaction, he quickly reassured, "It's not bad, I tried it myself while making it. I bet you haven't had anything to eat all day. Come on."

Lan Fan opened her mouth to say that the taste of the porridge hadn't been the issue, but chose to say something else instead. "Young Master," she murmured, trying not to strain her throat. "It is not proper for someone of your rank to…to act like this and feed me porridge…"

"To hell with properness," Ling immediately answered. "I don't care. You're sick, Lan Fan. Do you think I would care about that when one of my friends is sick? Eat it." When she opened her mouth to protest again, he swiftly slipped the spoon past her lips and into her mouth.

The mouthful was hot, but not burning, thanks to Ling's blowing. The flavors washed around her mouth, and she savored them. The porridge she had eaten in the past had always been plain rice and nothing more, unlike the flavorful mixture that was in her mouth right now. _Did he make it himself? I didn't know the Young Master could cook…_

"Is it good?" Ling held out another spoonful. Lan Fan accepted it this time, and let him spoon-feed her until the bowl was empty and her stomach was full.

"Thank you…" she whispered. "For the food."

"No problem," he smiled. He tousled her hair a little, and her cheeks flamed pink. _From the fever,_ she thought. _It's not…_

Ling placed a hand on her shoulder and pressed her back downward. "Go and rest," he said. "I'll take care of everything else. You just get better, all right? Oh, right. Don't tell Fu I was here." He pulled the covers back over her and kissed her cheek. "Sleep well."

"Wait…" she started in embarrassment, but sleepiness was already clouding her mind. Soon she was dragged back under, where she dreamed of the Young Master and herself sitting together on a hill overlooking all of Xing.

It was the sun that woke her up. It slanted through the window slats and directly onto her face, making her face twitch in discomfort. Red seeped through her eyelids, and she rubbed at them with her hand, attempting to block it away. But it was to no avail; light still slipped through the cracks in her fingers. Lan Fan gave up and opened her eyes.

The light bathed parts of the room in a dark yellow, making the floor look more gold-colored than it really was. She glanced down at herself, and realized that her skin had stopped sweating, and she no longer felt so cold. Lan Fan lifted a hand to her forehead and touched her skin; it was no longer hot. Her fever had died down. Her throat was still raw, but it would probably take days to recover from that.

"You woke up." Fu came out of an adjoining room. "How do you feel?"

"Much better, Grandfather." She sat up and accepted the cup of water he held out to her. The drink was refreshing, and she set down the empty cup within seconds. Fu poured out more water.

"You must be hungry," he said. "Would you like something to eat? You haven't eaten all day."

"No," she said, surprising herself. "I'm not hungry." _It wasn't a dream, then. Was it?_

"Hmm. You're not?" Fu peered at her curiously, as if she was lying.

"No. I'm fine," she answered, shaking her head. "It's fine, Grandfather. You can eat without me."

"If you say so, then." He stood up and walked toward the kitchen, where she soon heard the noise of pots being moved and the sound of matches being struck to light the stove. Lan Fan sighed and slipped back under the sheets, intending to rest for a bit more.

"Something strange happened today," Fu remarked. Lan Fan's eyes snapped back open.

"What happened, Grandfather?"  
He sighed. "It was the Young Master, disappearing again. It was probably around noon. He ran away from me for an hour or so and reappeared later in the royal garden, stating that he had been there the whole time. Of course he was lying—I had checked that place, and felt not a single wave of _qi_ coming from it. Usually he disappears to his usual places, but I just couldn't find him today," the old man mused. Then he suddenly poked his head out of the kitchen, as if something had struck him. "Lan Fan," he said. "Did the Young Master come here? I believe it was the only place I didn't check."

_Don't tell Fu I was here_. She shook her head. "No," she said. "He didn't."

"Hm. Well, in that case, I suppose I should just brush off that disappearance as nothing. Master Ling probably vanished off to the town, but we'll never know. Hm. Then, you should go and rest, Lan Fan. I want you up and ready to go by tomorrow."

She smiled. "I will be, Grandfather. Don't worry about it. I'll be perfectly fine. Tomorrow, I'll be able to protect the Young Master again."

"Good." Fu disappeared back into the kitchen, and she heard the sound of chopsticks clinking against china. Lan Fan closed her eyes again, and snuggled back into her sheets. _Yes, tomorrow. Tomorrow, I'll be back with him_.

* * *

**Lame Ending Much? :'D**

_Words: 1,990_

_Additional Notes: None_

**Reviews are love :]**_  
_


	15. 015 Wife of a King

**A/N: I really don't like this one.**

**It seemed okay at first when I was writing it. Then after proofing and rereading it about fifteen gazillion times, it seemed a bit off. Then when I uploaded it to here it seems pretty...argh. Bad. There's something wrong with it.  
**

**I've reread it twice more and still can't seem to pinpoint the problem. Maybe you can. Either way, here you go.**

**Theme number fifteen - _Wife of a King._ It's a pretty odd theme. I was originally going to call it "Queen" but I think the other one fits better. Sort of. **

**This one is one of the longest I've written. I usually write better short ones, since long ones tend to go on and get boring. I bet this one does too.**

**(I'll stop bashing myself now. You can just go and read it.)  
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**_Cai Jun, year 1780. First Wife of Emperor Zhou. Famous for her lovely embroidery, dancing, and singing. _

_ Mei Yue, year 1817. Favorite concubine of Emperor Yang. Was one of the most gorgeous wives in the history of Xing and wonderful at playing the _erhu_. Was the only concubine buried with Emperor Yang._

_ Xue Hua, year 1620. Seventh wife of Emperor Li, but the most beautiful out of the fifty. Bore Emperor Li a son that later became the next emperor of Xing. Elegant and extremely graceful. Extremely loyal to the emperor._

"Lan Fan! Where are you?"

Lan Fan slammed the book shut, and hastily attempted to stuff it back into the shelf of books next to her. It had a complete opposite effect and a ton of books tumbled onto the ground, more than several smashing into Lan Fan's legs. She pulled the books off her, annoyed, before checking the make sure the paper sheets next to her were undamaged. Fortunately, they weren't.

"So that's where you were. I heard that noise. Are you okay?" Ling peeked at her behind a bookshelf. "Have you finished yet? I was just thinking about getting something to eat." He gave a large fake sigh. "Those courtiers…they think I can last three entire hours without a single bite to eat! What are you doing here, anyway?"

"N-nothing!" she spluttered, picking up the fallen volumes and haphazardly began shoving them back onto the shelf. Her cheeks flushed pink, and she cursed herself for taking her mask off earlier.

Lan Fan quickly stuck the last book on top of the rest and stood up, bowing. She quickly pulled her mask back over her face and knotted the strings. "I apologize for my incompetence, Your Highness. I do not ask for your forgiveness."

"Nah, I'm not worried about that," the young emperor said, waving his hand. "Don't sweat it. But," he continued, "I am intrigued on what you were looking at. I was sure I asked you to help me look up the past changes the emperors have made on Xing. But never mind that, what did you find here?"

Lan Fan drew in a shaky breath. There was no way she would tell him what she was looking at. "Nothing much, really," she answered in an even tone. "Nothing of importance. However, I did find the information you requested me to find."

Ling accepted the papers she held out of him and began to skim through them in an almost hungry, eager way. Lan Fan bowed again. "If you'll excuse me, Your Highness. I have matters to attend to." And then she had disappeared.

Ling blinked. She had never done that before. Letting the papers fall onto the floor, he knelt down next to the shelf that his bodyguard had been looking at. He was sure that the book she had been looking at had been dark red leather, with a gold lines on the spine...yes, there it was. He extracted the book out from the shelf and turned to look at the title.

_Women of the Court, a History: Tales and Lists of the Wives of Emperors._

Ling's stomach twisted in a painful way, and he knew that it wasn't because of hunger. Dread filled him as he flipped past the title pages, before pausing at the introduction. He glanced around to check that no one was close to him before beginning to read the Xingese characters.

_The wives of emperors have been prominent figures throughout Xingese history. Traditionally, fifty wives are chosen for an emperor-one from each Clan. Each wife chosen is said to be beautiful, soft-voiced, delicate, and be accomplished at the womanly arts, such as embroidery and playing instruments. They are expected to be able to sit quietly, bear strong children, and have exquisite manners. They..._

Ling stopped, and flipped to a random page. He read the title at the top: _Ai Nu, 1715. Fifth wife of Emperor Cao. Known for her knowledge and being able to speak five fluent languages. The music she played on the guqin was "a song fit for gods". _Next to the short biography and another long list of her accomplishments was a painted portrait of Ai Nu.

She was, indeed, exceptionally beautiful. Her face was free of any blemishes, and patted down with rouge, while her long black hair was twisted into a style befitting a married woman of high social class. Ai Nu's expression might have been one of a smiling, caring queen but he recognized it as one of high arrogance and scorn. It was nauseating.

Ling flipped past her page, and then the next. All of them were painted with fine looks, had similar accomplishments and talents, and bore the same haughty look of disdain. They were all, in a way, completely identical.

He slammed the book shut and shoved carelessly it back into the shelf, causing the myriad of books to tumble out of their places again. But he didn't care. Ling raced out of the library, ignoring the shouts and cries of surprise the courtiers and servants waiting for him outside made. _Lan Fan, _he thought, as he sprinted in his silk robes. _Lan Fan, where are you?

* * *

_

Lan Fan squished herself tighter between a mass of branches and leaves. Her favorite childhood hiding place was not as comfortable as it had been when she had been six years old, but she couldn't be picky. She felt a twig jab into her side, but ignored it; there were more things to think about than a sharp stick.

She felt angry at herself for being such an idiot. If she hadn't been caught right then, then Lan Fan wouldn't even be in this embarrassing, pathetic predicament right then. For heaven's sake, she didn't even know _why _she had fled from her Young Master herself. If Fu had found out, he would have been absolutely furious with her. But of course there was no Fu anymore…

Lan Fan shook her head. She had to stop thinking that way. She had to calm down, and then return back to His Highness's side, and apologize profusely for her improper actions. It was pathetic. She was an emperor's guard. Lan Fan was supposed to be top-class and completely faithful and loyal to her duty. So why was she sitting here now, acting like a coward?

Lan Fan clenched her teeth behind her mask, letting herself emit a tight, angry sound of disgust. What a failure she was.

It had been her who had volunteered to help her emperor look for past records of the emperors of Xing in the library. She had found the information he had been looking for, but had wandered off to the other section of the library to check for anything she might have missed. And then she had walked by that section, found that book, and…

She shook her head. Normally something like that wouldn't have appealed to her, but that one time she had paused to pick it up and read it. And it was so _stupid_…she clenched her fist. Somehow reading the passages had made her feel irritated, baffled and…hopeless. And she didn't understand why.

A trace of _qi_ pricked her skin. Before she had time to react, she heard a voice. "Lan Fan!"

After muttering a few choice cuss words under her breath, Lan Fan quickly jumped from her current tree to the next one. Her arm gripped a slender branch, and she began to pull herself up before she was seen—and then the branch broke off with a brittle _snap_.

If she had been less worried about books and Ling not finding her, she would have been able to land soundlessly and flawlessly. But this time, Lan Fan fell through the air and hit the ground with a dull and sickening _thud_.

* * *

When she came to, she found herself in a swirl of softness. The scents around her were gentle, and she heard utter silence and peace. For a while, she lay there, simply enjoying the comfortable spot she was in. Then Lan Fan remembered what had happened and immediately sat up, her eyes wide. She felt her body complain and a dozen different spots began hurting, but she ignored it.

Her surroundings were completely unfamiliar. She was in a bed of white sheets, and the softness of them was astonishing. She looked down, and found herself wearing a night shift, one made of high-quality cotton. Lan Fan found her right hand swathed in white bandages, and the spike-strap on her automail removed, along with the blade.

The room she was in was painted with lotus flowers, while exquisitely carved furniture decorated the sleeping chamber. She glanced at the table next to the vast bed, and saw her spike-strap and blade lying on the glossy maple surface. There was no doubt. Lan Fan was in the palace.

What was she doing there, though? She attempted to recall back the finer details of what had happened after she had fallen, but remembered nothing. Lan Fan had blacked out once she had hit the ground.

But that wasn't important. The first thing she had to do was get out of the palace. It was definitely no place for a commoner like her to be. She pulled back the sheets and set her feet down on the ground. Pain flooded her body once more when she applied pressure to her feet, but she ignored it again. Lan Fan had almost completely slid off the bed when the door to the chamber slid open, and Ling stepped in, accompanied by a servant holding a tea tray.

Before she could even react, Ling had crossed the room and none-too-kindly shoved her back under the sheets. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" he snapped in a very un-Ling way. "Are you _nuts?_"

"Your Highness, I…" Lan Fan started, but was abruptly cut off by Ling again.

"You fell out of a tree, Lan Fan, in case you haven't remembered. You suffered heavy bruising, scrapes, a cracked rib, and a messy break in your wrist. If it wasn't for alkahestry you'd be in some serious trouble. But you're still weak, and your right hand is still tender. Don't even think about getting up and moving for a while." He looked at her sternly for a while, before lowering his voice and switching to Amestrian, so the servant wouldn't be able to eavesdrop. "Please don't let that happen again. It scared me to death. I…I don't want to lose you again."

Lan Fan swallowed nervously, not knowing what to say in the situation she was in. Fortunately, she didn't. Ling beckoned the servant over to set the tea down on the nightstand. He then dismissed her, and she left with a quick bow.

"Here," he said, pouring out the tea from the teapot. Ling handed her the cup, and she accepted it. The taste was delicious.

"Thank you," she said. "Did you bring me here?"

"Yes," he answered. "What was I supposed to do? Leave you lying there half-dead in the grass? I'm not _that_ much of an idiot."  
"You're not an idiot, Your Highness!" she protested "And I'm wasn't half-dead, either. But either way, Your Highness, I don't mean to offend you, but you could have brought me to my house. It's not that far away…"

"But I brought you here, and you're safe. Your injuries have been taken care of. And no, I don't care for your dignity as a guard and not being able to stay here as a 'commoner'. You can complain about that later."

"Your Highness, I wasn't going to—"

"Yes you were. You were trying to escape right under my nose." Ling refilled her teacup, and handed her the steaming drink, which she gratefully took. "You may not know this, Lan Fan, but I don't see you as just a guard. You're my best friend, my companion, and more. You stayed with me and came back with me. You braved the horrors of the Amestrian homunculi and all the things behind it. You still believed in me, even when Greed took over my body. You've done many things for me, Lan Fan."

"I haven't done all that much…I even failed you as a guard back in Amestris," she objected. "Don't flatter me that much."

"You didn't fail me back then," Ling said firmly. "But out of all of the things you're done for me, the most important one is probably what you've taught me. You taught me about love, Lan Fan.

"Back when I was learning how to be an emperor, I was taught that 'love' was a way for the Clan to exist. Marriage was only so we did not die out. I was told that when I became emperor, I would receive fifty wives and I would have to produce an heir with each one. It was not love, Lan Fan. It was survival.

"But then I came to Amestris with you and your grandfather in search for immortality. It was then that I saw real love, actual love—but I didn't recognize it yet. It wasn't until everythingwas over did I actually realize it. During the time we spent in Amestris, we had shared things together. We had seen each other in our worst times and supported one other throughout. In that time period, you always came back to me, no matter what. That was your love to me, your devotion to me, whether you recognized it or not. And when Greed took over my body, I still thought of you every day. I wanted to know where you were, and how you were doing. And once it was all over, Lan Fan…I realized that what I had not only gained a Philosopher's Stone and my goal, but an insight on what love really meant.

"People expect wives of emperors to be stunningly pretty and good at things like sewing and playing instruments. They expect wives to bear strong children and be loyal and submissive. The past emperors expected those traits. I used to as well. But now I don't. I know what love really is now. And now that I am emperor, I can make the choices I want. I'll make the changes I think are right, and I'll make sure Xing benefits from it."

Ling lifted a hand and rested it on Lan Fan's cheek. "You don't have to be good at what they expect you to be good at or be the loveliest pearl out of them all, Lan Fan. I love you, and that's all there is to it."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and splattered on Ling's finger, much to his surprise. "Ah. Don't cry, Lan Fan."

But she couldn't help it. Another one slid down her cheek, and after that another one, until she buried her face into her sheets. Ling patiently waited for her to finish, and occasionally stroked her on the back. After a while she lifted her head and whispered something. Ling tilted his head a little. "What did you say?"

"Grandfather would kill both of us if he found out."

Ling laughed. "Hey, Fu!" he called, lifting his head up to the ceiling. "If you can hear me, I hope you approve."

"If he does hear you, he'll probably pull your ears off." Lan Fan wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and gave a light laugh. "He's never approved of you being close to me."

"Well, that'll change," he answered. "I'll get Xing to accept this change, too. I've had the decision to abolish polygamy since we came back, you know."

"It's been five years since we came back from Amestris," she commented. "That's an awful long time, Your Highness."

"I know." Ling rested her hand on Lan Fan's own, slipping his fingers through the spaces between hers. "But it was a time well worth waiting for."

* * *

_Words: 2,813  
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_Additional Notes: An _erhu_ is a traditional Chinese instrument, as well as a _guqin_. The _erhu _has two strings and a bow, and is played a bit like the cello. The _guqin_ is a flat, stringed instrument that is plucked with a finger. Use Wikipedia for more information._

**Reviews are love :]**_  
_


	16. 016 Side

**A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING IN FOREVER ;_; **

**So have these two themes 8D **

**Okay I actually had these finished a week ago but didn't have the time (motivation) to post them up...sorry.**

**Theme number sixteen - _Side_. I actually like this one a lot.**

**Enjoy.

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Despite what it looked like from the outside, Ling Yao was a loud, happy person with a ridiculously large appetite. He was smart and educated, but often pushed aside the clever words and dialects he had learned for choppy, casual talk. And half of the time he didn't take things seriously, much to his guards' horror.

When he wasn't disturbing the cooks in the kitchen and causing Lan Fan and Fu pain, he was sitting quietly in the study, listening (or at least pretending to) intently to the wars between the Clans. Whenever he was forced to meet noblemen, he was an obedient and sweet child that didn't complain about his heavy robes or get distracted by trivial things.

On the outside, Ling Yao was truly a prince. And the entire Yao Clan saw Ling Yao only as "the prince". None of them knew what his real personality was.

Being his personal guards, Fu and Lan Fan hadn't taken long to figure out all of his quirks. Whenever he was missing, they always checked the kitchen before searching around the rest of the palace grounds. They knew how many meals he ate per day, and his favorite hiding places. Both of them understood him more than anyone had ever done.

He loved both Fu and Lan Fan for that. He didn't treat them as simply "guards", as they insisted they were, but friends. Family. And maybe in _her_ case, just a little bit more.

He hadn't wanted to admit it at first. Ling was, after all, a _prince_. He had been taught over and over that a girl below his social rank was unacceptable. He had been told that he would receive wives that would exceed the charm and beauty of others. He was told that he would be given everything he wanted, whatever he wanted.

But whenever he saw her smile, whenever he saw the look she reserved just for him, he couldn't help but feel that that was all he wanted. He didn't want anything more, didn't _need_ anything more. He was invincible, as long as Lan Fan was next to him. And, he added as an afterthought, Fu too. Ling needed the old man to keep him on the right track.

Nobody knew that side of him. That was the side of him he wanted to keep to himself, until maybe the day he felt that he could share it. And when he did, he hoped that others would see him as "Ling Yao", and accept him.

And when that happened, they'd have to accept _her_ too.

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_Words: 433_

_Additional Notes: None_

**Reviews are love :]**_  
_


	17. 017 Safe

**A/N: As promised, here's another one c:**

**Theme number seventeen -_ Safe_. Enjoy.

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"I'm hungry," Ling moaned. "_Really, really_ hungry. I feel like I haven't eaten for two weeks…I want rice cakes, sweetened with honey. Food…_food_…"

Lan Fan didn't answer. She would have gladly gone to the kitchens to fetch her master something to eat, but Fu had warned her not to give in to the Young Master's silly desires. "There are some you must obey, and some that are optional," he had warned. "Don't let the Young Master make you do everything."

"Lan Fan…I'm so, _so_ hungry…I really, really want some food…"

"I understand," she quietly interjected, and bowed her head. _Sorry, Grandfather. I'm sure you understand._ "If the Young Master feels hungry, then I will get some sustenance for him." She slipped off her tree branch and bounded away, heading for the palace kitchens.

"Thank you!" Ling called as she disappeared from view.

Once she entered the kitchens, Lan Fan began to scan the vast counters for any food. Spotting a steaming mass of hot cakes, she picked up a pair of chopsticks and began dropping the delicacies onto a plate. She had almost picked up enough to sate Ling's appetite when a loud, booming voice made her drop the wooden sticks. "What commoner is in the royal kitchens stealing food?"  
Lan Fan spun around, and bowed deeply. "Head Chef, please accept my apologies and explanation. You see, the Young—"

"Thief! Scoundrel! Disgusting, low-class guard," the cook snapped. "You're useless. Pinching the emperor's dinner for yourself, aren't you? Disgusting creature. I'll be sure to report you."

_The emperor's dinner?_ Lan Fan cursed herself inwardly. How could she not have known? She kept her eyes to the floor. "Head Chef, please listen. I am a guard of the Yao Clan, and—"

She paused, confusion suddenly clouding her mind. Lan Fan knew the Head Chef extremely well, almost as well as her grandfather. The Head Chef was extremely kind to her, and had understood the Young Master's voracious appetite. And as she paused, her thoughts swarming, she realized that all of the servant girls were missing.  
Lan Fan glanced upward, her hand already slipping to her belt. The face was different. The tattooed anklet was not a symbol of a kitchen staff member, but of a guard in another Clan. And it definitely wasn't the Yao Clan.

The woman lunged.

Lan Fan slid out of the way, and yanked her knives out from her sash. "The Yang Clan," she hissed. "How dare you."

"Yao Clan dog. That is what you are called aren't you?" The woman threw off her apron to reveal an abundance of knives and bombs tucked into her sash. "Let's make this a good fight, little girl."

"We shall," Lan Fan responded, although fear pounded in her heart.

She knew that this Yang woman's abilities were beyond her own.

And if Lan Fan was going to beat her, she was not going to come out unscathed.

* * *

When Ling realized that Lan Fan had not returned, he curiously ran over to the kitchens, only to find her bowing to another guard, who was tying up a woman covered in battle scars. Lan Fan took a quick glance at him before giving one last bow to the man and hurrying away.

Her hood was draped over her head, and the shadows completely hid her face from view. She held a small rice cake in her right hand, which he devoured with rapid speed. "It's soooo yummy~," he exclaimed through a mouthful of cake. "Thank you, Lan Fan!"

"You're welcome," she murmured quietly, before silently following Ling back to the training grounds.

Had Ling been less occupied with eating the rice cake, he might have noticed that Lan Fan was limping, although she barely showed it. And if he had not overlooked the limp, he might have seen the dark droplets that slicked off her left hand and fell onto the dusty earth.

After Lan Fan lost to Ling for the fourth time in a row, Ling stood over her, looking worried. "Hey, Lan Fan. Are you okay? You haven't lost to me in six years."

"Yes, the last time I lost to you was when I was but a little child," she muttered crossly, before painfully pulling herself up. "I apologize for my incompetency, Young Master. I have disappointed you."

"Nah, don't worry about it. This is training. We're supposed to get better." Ling waved his hand as if it were a trivial matter, before clenching his fists one more and hurtling towards Lan Fan again. "Here we go!"

She immediately became on her defensive and blocked, but Ling easily came past her and managed to smash one of his fists into her stomach, causing her to be thrown ten feet, all the while cursing for forgetting her armor.

"Again?" Ling uncurled his fists, and jogged over to her side. "Come on, Lan Fan. You're no fun today. You're okay…right?"

Her mask had slid off her face, revealing a dark half-dried gash along her cheek, the scar forming still soft and breakable. Bruises surrounded it, and as Ling gently pulled the mask completely off, he realized that her entire face was ruined.

Goddamn, her beautiful face was _ruined_.

Her high cheekbones were obscured by yellow bruises, and her eye was puffy and sore, as if someone had landed a punch on it. Ling realized that the gash roped all the way down to her chin, where it turned into a slender welt. He rolled up her sleeve, and saw a dark welt winding around her wrist.

Whoever had done this to her had been thorough. So thorough that it was disgusting.

Lan Fan stirred a little. "Young Master…" she murmured.

"Don't talk." Ling pressed his hand to her forehead, and almost jerked it away from the searing fever. "Why didn't you tell me this? Shit," he swore a cut on her forehead smeared and began to bleed again.

"Young Master, using foul language is wrong," Lan Fan scolded, but in weaker tone. "It's not proper."

"Right now, I couldn't care less. We've got to get you some medical treatment." Ling placed a hand under her shoulder. "Can you walk?"

"I believe so." She struggled up, with the help of the prince, before almost collapsing again. Ling secured her arm firmly around his shoulder. "Fu will have some medical supplies, won't he?"

"At my house. Close to the outer wall of the palace, near the ring of trees." Lan Fan stumbled, and Ling pulled her arm tighter around his shoulder.

"I know where it is," he said. "I went there all the time when I was a kid."

"I remember," she said faintly, looking paler by the second.

"Hey! Lan Fan!"

"I'm…fine," she said unconvincingly, before leaning over and vomiting onto the ground.

Ling swore again. "Damn." He scooped her up and began to run.

* * *

"She'll live," Fu sighed after dropping the last swab of antiseptic-soaked cotton into a pan next to him. The old man then reached for a small vial of oil and began to rub it into the injuries. "Whoever did it must have hated the Yaos very much."

"No, I don't think it could have been like that—" Ling began but Fu cut him off.

"Face it, Young Master. Your life is in danger at all times. People hate you. The only reason my granddaughter and I exist is to protect you. That is all." Fu screwed the lid back onto the vial and placed it back next to him. "Lan Fan was trying to save your life."

"But…" Ling stared down at the floor, and caught glance of Lan Fan's hand, which was wrapped tightly in bandages already stained a pale red. He clenched his own fists. "I hate watching people close to me get hurt," he muttered. "Watching Lan Fan get hurt…or you, Fu…or maybe even one of my servants get beaten. I hate every single bit of it."

Fu patted his shoulder. "That, Young Master," he said, "is a very good trait for you to have as an emperor. You want to care for your people. But Lan Fan protected you not only because it was her duty, but because she cares for you. You should understand that. You need not take take all the blame and shame on yourself."

"Fu…" Ling glanced up at the old man, who was giving one of his very rare smiles to the young prince.

"I'm sure Lan Fan wouldn't want you to feel that way," Fu said. He rose, and began to clear up all of his medicines. "You need some rest, Young Master. You've been out for a long day, and carrying my granddaughter back must have been exhausting." The man lowered his head and bowed. "I am indebted to you for helping Lan Fan, Young Master. Thank you."

"No, no," Ling stammered. "It was my…"

But Fu had left. Sighing, he sat down next to Lan Fan, watching her sleep. Ling glanced at the white strips bound over her arm, and his stomach turned. _Why…_

"Young…Master?"

"Lan Fan!"

"Sorry…" she sighed, raising one bandaged hand and taking a look at the linen strips covering her fingers. "I couldn't protect you properly."

"You did. You definitely, definitely did," Ling assured, gently bringing her hand back down to her side. "But you need to rest now. Come on."

"Thank you," she whispered, before closing her eyes. "I'm glad you're safe, master….Ling…I'm happy…"

And as he watched the peacefully sleeping form of his bodyguard, Ling believed Fu's words.

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_Words: 1,656_

_Additional Notes: None_

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	18. 018 Breathing Underwater

**A/N: Theme number eighteen - _Breathing Underwater_. I expressed this one in two ways. **

**I don't like the beginning actually _ but I rather like the ending. It's not exactly romantic...it's kind of melancholic, actually. I think a lot of people are going to start hating me after they finish reading this one xD

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His laughter rang out throughout the courtyard, and a high, womanly giggle shortly followed. She gritted her teeth, hating every moment of it all.

The young prince was charmed by the woman standing in front of him, unable to take her eyes away from her. "Oh, Ying!" he gasped, doubling over with laughter. "You're so funny sometimes!"

"Oh no, my prince, that is too much of a compliment for me to take!" she exclaimed, flipping her long black hair, which flowed down her back like a silky waterfall. "You flatter me too much!"

Ling shook his head. "No, I really did mean it, Ying. You're amazing." And then the pair fell into a pool of merriness again.

The girl was a courtesan, a high-class woman meant to entertain Ling. And not only was she having fun, she had clearly fallen head-over-hills with the silly and cheerful prince, even though it was clearly against the code of a courtesan.

It made Lan Fan feel sick.

Ying was beautiful, much more than what she would ever be. Her eyes were rimmed with kohl, and there was just the right amount of rouge tinting her cheeks. Her lips were painted red, and as she rose up on her toes to whisper something in Ling's ear Lan Fan saw a faint red smear being left behind on his skin.

Disgusting.

"You know what, Ying? I absolutely have to agree with you," Ling exclaimed. "How right you are."

"No, no," Ying shook her head, the beads in her hair clacking. "Master Ling, you are so kind!"

And as Lan Fan watched from afar, she felt disgust pool in her stomach. She wanted to throw up. The two of them bantered and laughed, and acted like there wasn't a single worry in the world. It was like nobody else but them existed in the world.

"Oh, Master Ling, there's something in your hair." Ying leaned upward and pulled a rose petal out of his black ponytail. She paused for a split-second, and he glanced up. Their eyes met.

And then they drew one other into a long, chaste kiss.

Lan Fan's throat blocked up. She couldn't breathe. Her heart stopped. Her lungs quit. Every function in her body paused for a single second.

Long enough for her to slip from her perch behind a rock into the lake behind it.

It was a watery hell. Water filled up her body, and she saw a stream of bubbles escape from her lips. The knives and bombs she carried weighted her down, dragging her deeper underneath.

Normally she would have fought for her life. But this time she let the weight pull her under, and let the black press at the edges of her eyesight. Was dying really so easy? Maybe it was better for her, anyway. It was better for the Young Master too. He didn't need her, there was no way her death would affect him. It would be for good.

"LAN FAN!"

A hand gripped hers, pulling her upward until she broke the surface of the lake, gasping for air. Fu's face stared into hers, worry spread across his. "Granddaughter! Are you all right?"

She coughed water out of her throat, and wiped her dripping face on her sleeve, realizing that it only made it worse before stopping. "Yes," Lan Fan murmured, feeling embarrassed. Falling into a lake! It was something only an apprentice would do. And yet she was already fourteen...

Fu shook his head. "Go back and warm yourself up, otherwise you'll catch cold. I'll take over watching the Young Master for a while. He seems to be enjoying himself, no?" A twinkle sparked in the old man's eye. "I'm pleased that the Young Master is happy."

"...yes, Grandfather," she quietly answered before taking off into a full sprint toward her house. She just wanted to get back to her house and relish the feeling of being unbothered and alone. She wanted to get away, forget what had happened—

"Oof!"

"Aaah!"

Lan Fan had collided into Ying, throwing the other girl down onto the ground. The front of her silk robes were soaking wet from the water on Lan Fan's own clothes, and there was no doubt dirt on the expensive clothing as well. Irritation and horror filled Lan Fan's mind, and her hand began to shake.

"Aah!" Ying glanced down at her ruined silks, and cried out. "You dirty dog! Look, you've ruined my clothes!"

Lan Fan had no other choice but to bow down and kneel before the courtesan. Ying was, after all, a higher status than herself. "I apologize deeply," she murmured. "I am sorry, My Lady."

"Hmph! You should be." Ying stood up, dusting and wiping off her robes. "Eurgh! I've got disgusting water and dirt on me now! How awful," she sighed. "This is terrible!"

Lan Fan stood up, and bowed one last time. "I am so very sorry, My Lady."

"Now wait a minute. Who said you could go?" Ying bent down and prodded Lan Fan's face with her long fingernails "You're an interesting girl, you know? You're Master Ling's guard, and yet you're a girl. Why is that so?"

"I was competent enough to protect him," Lan Fan answered evenly, disliking the direction Ying was heading. "Is there a problem with that?"

"That's not the problem," Ying snapped. "You're a girl. Master Ling is a boy. Isn't that a bit ridiculous?"

"I see nothing wrong with it," Lan Fan snapped. "This is preposterous! I see nothing ridiculous with that. Your question is the ridiculous one."

"How dare you!" Ying slapped Lan Fan hard across the face, leaving a stinging sensation on her cheek. "You have no right to speak, commoner!"

"Ying?" Ling ran over, holding a book in his hand, looking thoroughly confused by the situation. "I brought what you wanted. Who are you talking to?"

"Oh, no one, Master Ling. Thank you for this though, you are really too kind to me." Ying slipped back to his side and rested her head on his arm, slipping her own arm possessively through his . "Thank you _so_ much, Master Ling."

Ling saw Lan Fan still standing there, watching them. He had to have recognized her! She bowed down, waiting for him to say something. "Go," he said. "Leave us, please…Guard 512."

_He called me Guard 512. All for the sake of impressing that woman.  
_

Something inside her shattered, louder than a glass plate breaking on tile. Lan Fan took off in a full sprint again, running and running and running—and she didn't stop until she reached her house. Once she did Lan Fan stripped off all of her damp clothes and plunged herself into a warm bath, scrubbing herself warm and clean in the steamy water.

She lifted a dripping hand, watched the droplets pool back into the water. The chilly air blew over her bare shoulders, and she slipped back under. Was she trying to drown herself, hide from the truth? Maybe. He would never be his, and he could never be hers.

_"Lan Fan! I love you!"_

Ling's seven-year-old voice, echoing through her head._  
_

Bubbles flew from her mouth again as she stared through the rippling water at the ceiling. Lan Fan was breathing underwater.

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_Words: 1,306_

_Additional Notes: "Breathing Underwater" is a term equivalent to "A fish out of water" or similar. It means to struggle for life or the complete impossible._

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	19. 019 Rain

**A/N: I AM SO VERY SORRY ABOUT THE LACK OF UPDATES ;_; I have a lot of things going on. I'm sorry. All I can give you guys is some crappy oneshot.  
**

**Theme number nineteen - _Rain_. This is kind of irrelevant to the actual portion. Oops. Hope you have fun with it anyway. It's super angsty/Ling is very out of character. Depressing.

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It wasn't rare that Ling liked to run off without telling anybody. In fact, he did it all the time. So when he disappeared, Lan Fan and Fu calmly waited for him to come back. He usually did, after all.

Except this time he didn't. Hours later, he hadn't come back. thin drizzling rain had begun to fall, and the floor outside soon began to grow wet with droplets. Within moments the droplets turned into splashy blobs, and soon it was raining so hard that water began to seep through the closed windows of the room.

Fu stood up. "Granddaughter," he said. "We must look for the Young Master."

"Yes." Lan Fan pulled her mask over her face, relieved that it would be able to provide at least _some_ protection from the rain. But it was bound to be cold out there, and she winced at the thought of Ling outside in the chilly rain. _I have to hurry up and find him_.

"I'll take the palace," Fu instructed. "You take the garden and town. Let's not waste anymore time." Lan Fan gave a nod, and she took off, leaving her grandfather behind.

More water splashed down, and the drops streamed into her eyes, giving her the appearance of that she was crying. She shook her head and went on. Lan Fan had to find him, before it was too late…

He wasn't in the palace garden, which meant that he was either in the palace or in town. Lan Fan hissed in annoyance. It would take almost six minutes to reach town, and she didn't have that kind of time to waste. Annoyed, she turned and decided to take a shortcut to the town through the forest.

Water droplets slid off tree leaves at rapid rates, soaking Lan Fan even more. Her skin already felt clammy, and she held back a sneeze as a massive amount of water poured down on her. She was good at not getting sick, but in this weather…

She had to hurry. There was no time to lose. Lan Fan raced faster and faster through the trees, a splotch of black between the brown trunks. She leaped over a small stream, and skidded abruptly to a halt. There, standing in a flowing stream of water without caring that he was getting wet, was her young master. Ling.

He was dressed in what might have been lemon silk but what was now a sodden, dejected yellow. His hair fell freely down his back, the strip of cloth usually binding his hair up missing. He faced the rain, barely flinching as the droplets cascaded down his face and into the river.

"Young Master!" Lan Fan screamed, terrified. "Master!"

He slowly turned around, his eyes glinting with either rain or tears—Lan Fan didn't know. Water slicked off his fingers, and his mouth moved, but she couldn't hear for the rain. She ran closer, not caring that she too stepped into the stream. Lan Fan stood in front of him. "Young Master," she whispered.

"Lan Fan." Ling's voice was quiet, almost gaunt. "Lan Fan."

He dropped down onto his knees, mud soaking into his silken trousers. "I'm useless. A failure. Nobody wants to come near me." He gave a bitter laugh, and tilted his head up again. The rain splattered onto his cheeks, before sliding off in an endless trickle. "I'm alone."

"What are you talking about?" she gasped. "Young Master, what are you thinking?"

"I failed," he whispered. "I'm supposed to become a king. But I can't get anything right. I do nothing right, Lan Fan. I can't even do a speech in front of the visiting ambassador from Creta. Now I've made the whole Yao house look bad."

_Oh. That_. She faintly remembered Ling saying something about a Creta ambassador two weeks ago. But Lan Fan had barely paid attention. Now, she felt regret and anger for not paying more attention to him.

A splash brought her out of her trance. Lan Fan glanced over, finding Ling mindlessly scooping up water through his hands and watching it drip back through the cracks in his fingers.

"Stop it!" she cried out. "Young Master! Please get a hold of yourself!"

"I'm not being delusional," he answered. "I know what I did wrong. I know my mistakes. But who will forgive me for them?"

Lan Fan stood there next to him, before dropping her head. She knew she was in no position to speak in such a way, but she did so anyway. "I will," she whispered. "I will forgive Young Master for anything he does."

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_Words: 815_

_Additional Notes: None_

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